The Rhythm of His Wings
by October
Summary: Rg Veda, post- Vol. 10. Side story to "Heartbeat of the War God." The battle with Taishakuten is over. Kujaku must help an old warrior endure the ultimate loss. Light yaoi (male/male) romance. SPOILERS!!
1. Introduction

Author's Note and Disclaimer  
  
Given the popularity of CLAMP and yaoi, I've never understood the lack of Yasha X Kujaku fanfics. There are a handful of doujinshis that have noticed this relationship. In "Rg Veda Disco Version" CLAMP gets a great deal of fun out of this pairing-- this expensive book is worth its price for a single look that Kujaku gives Yasha in one of the page margins! ^^ And the 10-volume manga gives us numerous, if subtler, suggestions... Such as the one this story is based upon. At the end of the manga, Yasha has been in the Ashuric kekkai for many years. But he has magnificent new clothes... blankets... Obviously he's been eating well, too. Who made the trips to the grocery store? Well, since Kujaku has a special ability to cross kekkai barriers, I would guess it was our favorite Winged One helping out a friend. And that brings a whole new light to Yasha's near-overreaction at Kujaku's final sacrifice. 'Nuff said.  
  
This short is a side dish to "Heartbeat of the War God." I hope you like it, and I would like to thank my "Heartbeat" reviewers very much for their kind words. I'm glad there's still interest in "Rg Veda" as it remains one of the most beautiful and powerful mangas ever made.   
  
"Rg Veda" belongs to CLAMP. This story is only for fun. 


	2. A Promise

1. A Promise  
  
The sun was setting over the battlefield of the gods and Yasha lay weeping blood in the clawlike embrace of the kekkai. Above him the still face of Ashura gazed down sightlessly, frozen in time.  
  
There was no sound, no solace. Only pain.  
  
Yasha did not move when he heard Kujaku alight nearby.  
  
"Yasha-ou? Yasha-ou!"  
  
He would not reply. Kujaku came nearer with a rustle of trailing wings and the sound irritated him. He lashed out suddenly like a provoked beast, his fist colliding with the air as Kujaku lightly dodged the blow. An agonizing flash of pain shot through the remnants of his right eye and he fell again to rest on his knees, clinging to a spike of icy chitin.  
  
Kujaku dropped what sounded like a bundle and came round into his limited range of vision, kneeling before him. "Yasha-ou. Your wounds need attention immediately."  
  
Yasha managed speech. "Why should you care?"  
  
"Why shouldn't I?"  
  
The old warrior had no answer to that.  
  
"Would you have even the sight of Ashura lost to you forever?"  
  
"Be silent!"  
  
"Your eye, Yasha-ou. If you let it go, infection will set in and perhaps take both your eyes, perhaps even your life, and you will be left in darkness!"  
  
"Darkness is my fate."  
  
Kujaku shook his head vehemently. "If you intend to guard Ashura still, you must first help yourself. If you do not, you will not be able to protect him."  
  
"There is no protecting Ashura now."  
  
"Then why are you still here?!"  
  
There was too much pain, too much vertigo. Yasha could not answer.  
  
"Let me bring Dhanvantari. I think I can get the kekkai to let him through."  
  
"No, damn you! If you are so concerned then do it yourself!"  
  
"All right," said Kujaku after a moment. "I will."  
  
A blanket made up most of Kujaku's bundle and he unfolded it and helped Yasha to sit down on it. "Dhanvantari told me how it's done. It's pretty simple, but he warned me there's nothing more painful." He fished a vial out of a small knapsack and unstoppered it, handing it to Yasha.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"Poppy. Drink it."  
  
Yasha drank. Kujaku sat nearby until the world became only a distant dream. Then he began his grim work.  
  
* * *  
  
When Yasha woke from his trance, his head was pounding worse, if possible, than before. He lay still, breathing carefully. His heart, broken forever, hurt the worst, but right now the eye came close. He found himself wanting to weep, and for once could not stop the tears from welling up.  
  
"Don't!" Kujaku snapped. "Unless you want to hurt even more with salt in that wound," he finished more gently. "And be sure to keep your good eye shut." Yasha could hear a shakiness in the other's voice. Kujaku sat down by him with an exhausted sigh. "I bandaged your shoulder."  
  
"Ashura..."  
  
"I'll keep watch."  
  
* * *  
  
Yasha slept, deep and dark, a drugged sleep with flashes of scarlet. He woke, and food and drink were put in his hand. He gasped as cool ointment was carefully put into the vacant eye socket. Kujaku said little, but there was sympathy in his touch. Yasha turned away from it then and every day thereafter.  
  
When the old god's wounds were well on their way to healing, Kujaku left him without a word, leaving behind the blanket and the knapsack which had provisions and clean bandages.  
  
Yasha didn't feel like eating any more. But every now and then he took some bread and chewed on it slowly. Kujaku had been right, of course. Even if there were no hope, he would continue to protect his loved one. It was that or die, for Ashura had long ago become his life. But he could not afford to be this weak for long.  
  
* * *  
  
Dhanvantari's ashram was large and spotlessly clean. His wealth was incalculable, but he seemed oblivious to it. He had many students, but few servants, and he looked surprisingly young for such a very old god. His wife hastened to call him when Kujaku appeared on the threshold.  
  
"Kujaku! Did Yasha-ou live?"  
  
"And hello to you too. He needs more poppy."  
  
Dhanvantari gestured him in and offered him a drink and a platter of fruit. Kujaku flopped down on a cushion and his host took a seat opposite him. "Dhanvantari, I still can't believe I took his eye out."  
  
"It is simple enough to do."  
  
"I threw up! Couldn't forget it for days!"  
  
"It is not still paining him?"  
  
"No." Kujaku looked away. "But he's hurting."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Kujaku was silent, forming the simple answer with care. Dhanvantari was best known for his bringing amrita, the Nectar of Immortality, to the gods-- before the Ashura clan had stolen it from out of his very hands. Higher gods had intervened and the amrita was restored, but Dhanvantari held no love for the Ashuras. It still amazed Kujaku that he had such concern for Yasha-ou, who had so desperately tried to protect the last scion of that demon race.  
  
Kujaku opened his mouth to answer at the same moment Dhanvantari said it. "He is still grieving Ashura."  
  
"Yes. He still grieves. He's mourning like I've never seen anyone mourn before. This is going to kill him."  
  
Dhanvantari nodded slowly. "Those two were born for each other. Still... Yasha-ou was a good king. He needs a good companion." He nodded at his guest.  
  
It was Dhanvantari's nature to talk plainly, but Kujaku's eyes still widened. "Wha--?! He wouldn't have me!"  
  
"Why not? You two have a long friendship."  
  
Kujaku squirmed. "I wouldn't call it a friendship--"  
  
"I have heard you annoy him greatly."  
  
"That's true!"  
  
"Well--? What's more annoying than a friend?"  
  
Kujaku grabbed a mango from the platter between them and bit into it with unnecessary force. The juice hit him in the eye and Dhanvantari laughed, tossing him a napkin. "I remember Yasha-ou. Even as a youth he was steady and calm. Battles blew past him like breezes. Nothing disturbed him. Yet you annoy him?" And he laughed again.  
  
Kujaku finished cleaning up and threw down the napkin. "Okay, okay! So what?!"  
  
"What's to keep you apart now? That's what!"  
  
Kujaku leaned back against the cushions, arms behind head. "A promise," he said quietly.  
  
He stayed at the ashram until evening; then he left with the poppy, winging his solitary way out over the vast forest until he found a great tree in which to spend the night; but he could not sleep. Dhanvantari's friendly laughter echoed in his mind.  
  
He had not asked himself before why he thought it necessary to help Yasha- ou. Somehow, everything he had done had always been for Ashura. Ashura, who was so like himself...  
  
But Ashura would never return. 


	3. A Question

2. A Question  
  
Years rolled by-- centuries, by the standards of humans and their anthill lives.  
  
Yasha's outer wounds healed, but his heart never ceased to bleed. Kujaku came and went, bringing clothes, food, news, and poppy. Yasha didn't seem to care for any news, but he accepted the rest with cool politeness. Kujaku refrained from pointing out how hungry he would be if no one fed him. There was no getting through to Yasha-ou.  
  
Perhaps anger would work, Kujaku thought one day as he approached the silent figure. Sitting down beside him, he spoke casually. "The way you moon over Ashura, one would think you were lovers!"  
  
"Not lovers. Not yet."  
  
"What?! You've had designs on Ashura all this time?! Papa Yasha!"  
  
Yasha spoke through carefully clenched teeth. "Cease your prattle! I would never stoop so low as that and you know it well. But-- Ashura is grown now and... loves me..."  
  
It was pitiful, the way he said it. Kujaku struck the floor in frustration. "Ashura-- is-- gone!! And even if he weren't, 'he' has no gender! You can never enjoy together, never-- only use him!"  
  
"I don't care for that. My only desire is for Ashura to come back to me!"  
  
For one moment Kujaku thought Yasha was going to break. Then the anguished light faded from the dark eye and he turned away again, ever drawn to the still figure in the kekkai's cold embrace.  
  
* * *  
  
The next day, Yasha did not want to speak at all. He was in another opium dream, seated silently before his lost love. Kujaku could not bear it and left silently.  
  
Flying through low clouds, he spotted a fire sacrifice being conducted and landed before the astonished human brahmanas, posing as a messenger of Vayu, God of the Wind. He left again with the offering of fermented Soma juice. Finding a lonely tree he settled himself on a huge branch and began to drink; but he was restless, needing company. At last he pushed off the tree and began the flight to the center of Toriten.  
  
It was several hours before he flew wearily over the courtyard wall. Taishakuten's new palace was the Jewel of Heaven, but it hadn't seemed to make the Emporer any happier than what he'd seen before.  
  
Neither had it helped the Crown Prince. The garden below was made like a great wheel with eight spokes and Tenou was standing at the center of it, where a fountain played endlessly, its spray fanning out like the strings of a water harp.  
  
Tenou was gazing at the setting sun refracting through the spray, turning each drop into a liquid jewel. Kujaku alit soundlessly behind him. "Moping again, Your Highness?"  
  
Tenou turned sharply. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Excuse my presence!" Kujaku held up both hands. "Want some Soma?"  
  
Tenou smiled wanly and shrugged. He was looking more mature now, his jaw squarer, eyes darker. "Why not." He grabbed the offering from Kujaku's hand and took a long swig, then beckoned toward a bench. "Come on, sit down. At least you're different company."  
  
"Better than none, eh?"  
  
They sat in silence for some time, passing the drink back and forth as the sky darkened and the stars came out. At last Tenou looked thoughtfully at the small clay pot and said, "Soma. What did she say about her?"  
  
"About Kendappa? Nothing that I overheard." Kujaku belched. "Women!"  
  
Tenou sighed and looked away into the dark. "Kujaku... If you could die to save someone you loved, would you do it?"  
  
The unusual question brought Kujaku's wandering thoughts into sudden sobriety. "Well... It's a noble sentiment and all that. But... I'm not sure if I can imagine that kind of love. Loving someone that much. Take old Yasha-ou..." He waved vaguely at one of the cardinal points. "It's been hundreds of years now but he's still just sitting there. Still waiting. He's mad."  
  
"He is valiant!" Tenou said with conviction.  
  
"But he's going to die there someday, probably alone in the dark, all from this thing called love. He's guarding a body. Ashura's gone."  
  
"I know he would die in a moment to bring Ashura back."  
  
"And then we'd all be in worse trouble than before!"  
  
"Don't speak so of my brother!" Tenou snapped, brow furrowed with anguish.  
  
"Sorry... That was a strange thing to ask, my Prince. Are you planning on saving someone?"  
  
Tenou ignored the question. "Kujaku, I can't believe you've never had someone you loved."  
  
"Well..." Kujaku shut his eyes. "I loved my mother, but she tried to kill me. I loved Ashura because we were the same. Unwanted. Now Ashura's gone. You loved Kendappa and she's gone... What good is love anyway?"  
  
"What good is love." Tenou shrugged as if trying to dislodge the heavy question from his shoulders. After a pause he asked, "Who was your mother anyway?"  
  
"The old Tentei's sister."  
  
"Really?!"  
  
"Mm- hm."  
  
"But your wings and eyes... Mazoku. She couldn't have mated with one."  
  
"I don't know where the Mazoku comes from. It first showed after she tried to kill me."  
  
"Why should she try to kill you?!"  
  
"Because my father was Tentei."  
  
Tenou gasped. "You mean your father... and his sister!-- You're of the pure Old Blood! Kujaku, have you an heir?!"  
  
Kujaku pulled carefully out of reach. "So are you telling the Emporer?"  
  
"Am I a child, to go running to my father with everything?!"  
  
"No. And I have no heir."  
  
Short silence.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"Everyone always asks me that! Kujaku, why are you here? What's your motive? You must have some plot! The truth is, it gets really boring talking to trees. And Yasha-ou isn't much better."  
  
"So you've been spending time with him?"  
  
"Sometimes. When he's not too lost in Poppy-Land. I bring him too much of that stuff... But he needs something to kill that pain of his. He loved Ashura too much."  
  
"I've always admired Yasha-ou," said Tenou. "He is a good king. Decent and just."  
  
"King of what? He's the God of Death, my Prince. But you're right. He's decent. One of the few... Come to think of it, you're decent, too."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Just what I said." Kujaku fixed him with a mischevious look that spoke volumes. Some portion of his Soma-clouded brain told him it wasn't a good idea. Prince Tenou was notorious for his distaste of males loving males. It was a strange personality quirk, most likely brought on by the disastrous affair between his father and the Ashura-ou.  
  
But Kujaku couldn't help himself. He reached almost involuntarily to touch the Prince's rich red hair. Tenou backhanded him off the bench in the same instant.  
  
When Kujaku climbed out of the roses he was alone in the garden. He hauled himself back up on the bench and sat there, laughing and weeping quietly. Life was too difficult. He sat with his head in his hands.  
  
At last he dragged himself upright and wandered dazedly along the garden paths. Eventually he came to a vaulting arch. Stepping through it, he became abruptly aware of a tall figure standing in the shadows like a ray of chill moonlight. "Taishakuten!"  
  
The Raijin's eyes were bright with fury. "You... dare... speak so to my son?"  
  
"No, no!" Kujaku forced a laugh. "It was only a joke!"  
  
Taishakuten's hand shot out and Kujaku found himself pinned to the wall by the throat. "That's not how I heard it. My heir prefers women, Peacock." His eyes drifted slowly over Kujaku's form and he smiled grimly. "I, however, do not. And you might be... interesting..."  
  
* * *  
  
Taishakuten's chambers were vast and white, like the inside of an eggshell with the sun falling on it; but the sky outside the high windows was a cruel, cold blue. Kujaku gasped in pain, held captive in a violent sea of silk. Sweating, he barely heard the Emporer whisper in his ear. "It's been a long time for you, hasn't it? But longer still for your 'friend,' Yasha-ou. He would be worthy of me..."  
  
Kujaku found his voice. "Meaning I'm not. But I'm certainly garnering your attention."  
  
Sharp nails pressed into his cheek, leaving claw marks. When Kujaku raised his eyes, daring to meet the Emporer's, he was caught by their pain. A piercing ray of sunlight fell upon the bed, turning everything around them dead as snow save for the bright live drops of blood upon the sheets.  
  
"It is not your body which is unworthy," Taishakuten said, with surprising gentleness. "That is fine enough. But-- you do not know what it is like to live without the one you love."  
  
Kujaku was shocked more by this than by finding himself in the Emporer's bed. "You feel for him...?! You feel for Yasha-ou?!"  
  
"I understand him. Why he waits..."  
  
Kujaku followed his gaze off into nowhere. "If you understand, then let me go to him."  
  
"You can never replace the one he lost. But if you want to have him anyway, it will take more than these little wounds. Yasha must be frightened."  
  
"What--? I don't--"  
  
Taishakuten's hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him. "Before I release you, Winged One, I will finish preparing the way for him... And I will also extract my retribution for your words to my son." 


	4. One Love

3. One Love  
  
Kujaku struggled toward the Old Zenmijou on unsteady wings. It was a weary flight at the best of times, and he wondered if he would make it now.  
  
He was still amazed that Taishakuten had said nothing about his origins. Tenou had not spoken of it... Or else the Raijin didn't care?  
  
His wings faltered as he lost the thermal that had carried him so far. It was all he could do to managed a controlled fall and when he hit the desert sand it felt like hitting solid rock. He lay there in the sun for a long time, sheltering under his feathers, wondering if he were going to die out here alone. His black wings absorbed the heat.  
  
Nightfall came and he fought his way up and started walking. His mouth was dry, his limbs shaking. His wings dragged in the sand. The pain was harsh and relentless.  
  
Not far now. Hold on.  
  
Taishakuten. Kujaku's feelings were still ambivalent, despite all the Raijin's crimes and even despite his own fresh wounds, for deep in his heart he somehow felt he had deserved what he'd gotten. But the pain in those eyes-- like Yasha's pain, transcending time. He would never forget Taishakuten's look.  
  
There was no denying that the Emporer was mad... but love could do that.  
  
Why had Taishakuten let him live? Kujaku stumbled and groaned. He was bleeding again. He had to rest.  
  
No-- he needed someone's help. Someone's care. Someone who might care.  
  
* * *  
  
Sometime in the night he crossed the final barrier of Ashura's monumental kekkai and stood swaying at the edge of a cliff, looking up and into the rooted tangle that loomed beyond his reach. There was no way in but flight.  
  
He fought his way up into the air, his wings becoming claws in a struggle. Somehow he made the leap across that chasm in the dark. Then his bare feet slapped smooth chitin and he was down with a feathery rush that echoed briefly through the cavernous structure.  
  
Yasha was awake and headed immediately for the sound, half-drawing Yamato. By its light he saw the figure writhing on the floor like a wounded dragon. "Kujaku!" He drew the sword fully and propped it against a stalagmite. Then he went to Kujaku and lifted him up, noting the coldness of his skin. "What happened?!"  
  
Kujaku's smile was twisted into a grimace. "It seems I was... an unwanted guest. Glad I made it here." He gulped. "I'm thirsty."  
  
Yasha moved quickly to bring him water. "Who did this to you?"  
  
Kujaku drank greedily. "Wrong place, wrong time..."  
  
Suddenly the world went black.  
  
* * *  
  
When he came to, he was wrapped in a blanket he had brought to Yasha a long time ago. Yasha was nearby, pouring more water over his clothes.  
  
Kujaku drew a deep, experimental breath. Everything seemed to be more or less in working order. Leave it to Taishakuten to know how to torture without inflicting permanent damage. He was no longer cold or trembling, just very, very weak.  
  
"Who did it?" Yasha asked bluntly as he wrung out the freshly washed clothes with deft, brutal twists.  
  
Kujaku flinched and looked away. "What does it matter?"  
  
The tone of his voice must have told Yasha what he needed to know. Spreading Kujaku's clothes out to dry, he turned. "Were I not guarding Ashura, I would leave here and finish the Raijin."  
  
"Don't be too hasty on my account." Kujaku's lip curled ironically. Taishakuten's cruelty had been beneficial after all. Yasha was visibly furious and that was an improvement. As the Emporer had planned, he had been frightened.  
  
But this fear and anger implied... concern. The thought made him exhausted somehow; he wanted to believe, and he wanted away from it. He managed to roll over, facing away from Yasha-ou, and closed his eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
He woke again, and this time he was alone. Sitting up slowly, he saw Yasha standing before Ashura's frozen form, speaking softly, then leaning to tenderly kiss the pale cheek. The kiss was so heartfelt, so worshipful, that Kujaku felt tears brimming and silently cursed his weakness. Now Yasha was praying with bowed head before his loved one as he had done without fail every morning for centuries. Kujaku did not have to hear his wish to know what it was.  
  
Then he knew fully that a barrier had indeed been broken, that Taishakuten had in truth not been unkind, for Yasha was letting him witness his love. Kujaku had never felt so privileged... or so confused. He had never anticipated this, Yasha letting his guard down so. Yasha trusting him. No one had ever trusted him like that except for Ashura.  
  
Witness to the sacred, Kujaku bowed his head and prayed for Ashura too.  
  
* * *  
  
It took days for Kujaku to be whole again. During that time Yasha tended him with great care, and Kujaku took in the changes in his manner, in his touch.  
  
When Kujaku was strong enough to walk again they wandered slowly together around the vast caverns of the kekkai. Sometimes Yasha would support him on one arm when he tired.  
  
Ashura's slender figure could still be made out, locked in the chitin. They stood before it often. The armor was gone now, reabsorbed. Kujaku noticed Ashura's hair was still growing. The pain in Yasha's gaze as he looked upon his loved one had not dimmed whatsoever over the centuries. It was the very echo of the Emporer's pain, Kujaku thought. Taishakuten did understand the old warrior.  
  
Kujaku reached out, touched Ashura's cold smooth forehead, traced the fine lines of the eyebrows. "So beautiful..." he said sadly.  
  
Yasha said nothing.  
  
Somehow feeling that he had permission, Kujaku kissed Ashura's brow.  
  
Now Yasha spoke. "You have always loved Ashura." The unspoken question-- Why?-- floated silently on the air.  
  
It wasn't hard to answer. "Ashura was an unwanted child. So was I. I needed to see Ashura wanted... to be wanted." Kujaku felt naked as he stood there shivering. He almost wept.  
  
Then Yasha suddenly did something wonderful and utterly unexpected. He bent slightly to place a chaste kiss back upon Kujaku's own brow. "Ashura thanks you," he said softly.  
  
"Yasha-ou..."  
  
"Yasha." The god-king's voice was kind. Kujaku stared at him.  
  
Yasha nodded, opening his arms, offering rare shelter. Kujaku took it immediately. The only sign of his tears was the spreading warmth in the hollow of Yasha's left shoulder. Silently they remained before Ashura and Yasha's eye never left that form, frozen in time.  
  
At last, after many minutes, Kujaku gently pulled away. Yasha released him, steadying him.  
  
"Thank you, Yasha."  
  
"Do not thank me. This is what Ashura would have done." Still kind, but now more enigmatic, Yasha nodded to Ashura as if his ward could see him and faded away into the dark, leaving Kujaku standing there alone. 


	5. Two Hearts

4. Two Hearts  
  
Kujaku's life was never quite the same after that, for now he had a friend. Though Yasha was dark and taciturn as ever (maybe more so) there was no mistaking his care. Ashura was their common bond.  
  
Kujaku did not venture outside the kekkai again until their supplies were running low, and it was some time after that before he showed his face in the Emporer's palace again. When he finally did he perched high up on the top of a decorative column in the garden, preening himself quietly and waiting for a sight of someone he knew.  
  
Two children ran past below him, playing hide-and-seek in the bushes and screaming with laughter when one got caught. God-children were something of a rarity and Kujaku leaned over the column's edge curiously. Sisters, he thought; perhaps twins. Close in age, but not in looks. One was dark- haired and destined to become a beauty; the other was very fair and weak, with an eerie quality to her. Kujaku had seen it before, but only in reincarnations. He had the feeling he should know this girl and wondered who it was.  
  
No one he knew by name showed up that day, however. When night came he took shelter in the branches of a large pine tree.  
  
Next day he was back on the column. He knew the Emporer's sentries were well aware of his presence, but no one disturbed him. At noon the girls appeared again and Kujaku was surprised to see them accompanied by Tenou. The Prince deliberately ignored him, laughing and playing with the children until Kujaku, beside himself with curiosity, shouted, "Hey! Are those yours?"  
  
Tenou smiled a bit grimly and called a halt to the game, pushing back his hair from a sweating forehead. "So you're finally back, Kujaku! These are my half-sisters, Shuki--" he gestured to the dark-haired girl-- "and Shaunakaa."  
  
"Half-sisters?!"  
  
Tenou was grinning now, thoroughly enjoying Kujaku's astonishment; but after a moment his smile faded. "I want to apologize for what my father did," he said honestly.  
  
Kujaku jumped lightly down from his perch, though he did not fully close his wings.  
  
"I didn't intend for anything like that to happen," Tenou continued. "I may have been drunk, but I should have known better than to talk."  
  
"We were both drunk," said Kujaku. "Let's just forget about it-- unless you've changed your mind about other things too. Besides--" He grinned that mischevious grin-- "I brought the Soma! But-- these half-sisters of yours," he continued, quickly changing the subject. "Did your father take another wife?"  
  
"Yes he did. Hannyara, his miko."  
  
"Why?!" The sunlight faded for a moment to Kujaku's sight as he recalled that look in Taishakuten's eyes. It was not the look of a man who would ever love again.  
  
"It's my arm," Tenou said. They began to walk a circular pathway. "An Emporer should be in perfect health. But Ashura--"  
  
"Don't go there. I remember well enough."  
  
"Anyway, the offspring were these sisters, but an Emporer also must be male." Tenou sighed. "My father will die soon. He can make no more heirs."  
  
"Do you want to be Emporer?"  
  
"Not really. But it seems like I must, doesn't it?... Though sometimes it's as if my father doesn't really care who succeeds him..."  
  
"Your arm looks good enough."  
  
"As long as I don't try to do much with it. This is difficult to keep concealed."  
  
"I won't breathe a word." Kujaku felt a tug on his wings and glanced back. Shaunakaa smiled at him shyly. "A man with feathers!"  
  
"It's not catching," he replied lightly. "I hear you're a Princess, little one."  
  
"Yes, I will be my brother's miko." Shaunakaa came round to stand in front of them and offered a pranam very prettily.  
  
"The total opposite of her sister," Tenou said dryly, behind a hand. "Shuki's a hellion. And she has some strange ambitions..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She's a strong stargazer. She keeps insisting that a "tall man in black" will come to her someday. It's so spooky I believe it. She keeps describing him... and it sounds like Yasha-ou."  
  
"It IS Yasha-ou!"  
  
Tenou spun to catch her but Shuki was too quick, dodging him and laughing at his grownup clumsiness.  
  
Kujaku had stopped in his tracks. He had never probed Yasha's future, for he had felt there was none. But this young stargazer could not lie...  
  
* * *  
  
Three times Kujaku's staff struck the floor of the hidden cave and its golden rings sang as he gave himself up to the winds that would carry him without wings beyond the reach of Time...  
  
* Tenou was Emporer, the world at peace.  
  
* Woman and man entwined. Was it Shuki--? Could be. Black hair, very female. And Yasha! It was Yasha... Even in his dream Kujaku felt utter disbelief, but there was no mistaking the God of Death.  
  
Then the woman changed. She lost her breasts, her hair lengthened, her skin paled, and it was Ashura. Ashura alive-- long body wrapped around Yasha, pink lips parted in a cry of impossible ecstacy! *  
  
Kujaku's staff clattered to the floor. He crouched, wrapped tightly in his own wings, his body racked with tremors. What he had seen was not possible.  
  
But it was real.  
  
How could Ashura ever come back to the land of the living? Only the ultimate sacrifice could accomplish that. Only a life for a life.  
  
Then he knew.  
  
* * *  
  
Kujaku, would you die for someone you loved? Tenou's question came back with vivid force as he winged his way toward Ashura's kekkai. Tenou's sisters had probably been around even back then, when the Prince had asked him that in the garden. God-children took many years to mature. It was easy enough to imagine what had happened. A midnight vision. A small stargazer, frightened by what she had seen, running to her brother's arms.  
  
Shuki could not, of course, have forseen Kujaku's eventual mode of death. A hoshimi could not read the fate of another hoshimi. But she must have told Tenou that she knew someone would die... and Ashura would come back to life!  
  
And Tenou had not spoken of it. He was still bound by love and strange fascination to the brother he had never known. Besides, it would have been useless. Only Kujaku could breach the Ashuric kekkai. This would be beyond Taishakuten's power to prevent. Even if he learned the secret and beseiged Yasha and Ashura with his entire army it still would be useless, for the future held them alive!  
  
Kujaku gave a mighty stroke of his wings and lofted higher, the wind whistling through his hair as he laughed. There was hope now. Life for Ashura. Love for Yasha. And for himself, peace in the knowing that he was the instrument of a miracle to come.  
  
He could not, of course, tell Tenou, even though he was clearly wondering who might be the one to die. The Prince himself lacked the magical ability necessary to break his brother's long sleep.  
  
The future was written and he had seen it. But there was one more thing he needed before he left this life.  
  
* * *  
  
When he reached the kekkai he found Yasha-ou despairing.  
  
The old king was leaning heavily forward against the chitin, reaching upward in vain. The kekkai had grown, and in the time Kujaku had been gone, Ashura had been pulled out of reach. Now, bereft even of touching his beloved, Yasha was failing at last. He cast Kujaku a dull look of hopelessness and the winged messenger saw the very essence of despair.  
  
Kujaku came to him quickly and caught his wrist. "No! Don't give up now, Yasha-ou! Don't fail him!"  
  
"I am failing him. I am weary, Kujaku... I am so weary!"  
  
"Then give your weariness to me. I will not betray you! Give me your hands and I will give you strength."  
  
Yasha looked at him speechlessly. Kujaku took those strong hands and held them tightly. "I love Ashura too. Please remember that. I want to see him return to you."  
  
Yasha closed his eye.  
  
Kujaku continued, still caressing those knotted hands. "My strength is yours for the taking." As he bowed his head, pledging his fealty to his chosen lord, Kujaku found his face hot with tears. They fell on Yasha's clenched fists and loosened them with their magic.  
  
"Come with me. Ashura is safe. Come, lay down with me and rest awhile from your grief."  
  
Yasha followed him and lay down beside him, and let himself be wrapped in a blanket. Kujaku held him to his shoulder like a mother, but still Yasha did not weep. Yet, when the pale light that passed for day in this strange realm faded at last, he fell asleep without poppy, and slept almost as deeply as Ashura, and Kujaku watched over them both.  
  
* * *  
  
Kujaku sat for a long time in the darkness. Yasha's pain. Holding its answer, he could not let it go on. And yet... Wasn't there just a little time...?  
  
As if picking up the thought, Yasha stirred in his arms. "Kujaku..." he murmured.  
  
The winged guardian leaned impulsively to kiss Yasha's brow. "I am here, noble one."  
  
Something in Kujaku's voice must have struck Yasha's heart, for he pulled away from Kujaku's embrace-- then turned silently back. Kujaku could hear him breathing and, receiving him, spread his wings. Yasha began to kiss him, small, brief kisses to lips and cheeks that matched the quick rhythm of his wings.  
  
Yasha was a kind lover. Kujaku fancied there was real tenderness in his dark, sad eye. They floated in space, feet not quite touching the ground, bodies intertwined, supported only by those desperate black wings until Kujaku screamed and Yasha rested his heavy head against the other's shoulder in spent silence.  
  
Kujaku settled them to the floor. He wrapped himself around him, wrapped his arms and wings and heart around him and held him with all the strength he had, saying nothing as Yasha's grief burst forth at last in centuries of tears.  
  
* * *  
  
Next morning they stood again before Ashura. The beautiful empty body seemed to float just above them, arms trailing back like frozen pinions.  
  
"... Does Ashura know? Have I broken my promise, that we would be together forever?"  
  
Kujaku was thoughtfully silent for a moment. Then: "Ashura cannot know. And you have not broken your promise. Think how Ashura would feel for you, waiting here all these years without hope. Would he want you to be lonely?"  
  
"... No. Ashura would not want me to be lonely."  
  
"Then, until the day Ashura comes back to you, I will be your companion."  
  
"Until the day? You said Ashura would never waken."  
  
"Maybe I've been hanging around you too much-- but I'm starting to believe otherwise."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Where a love like yours exists, miracles do happen. I believe your Ashura will come back to you, and soon. Let's wait for him together."  
  
"Yes... We will wait together." Yasha's strong arms enveloped Kujaku with great gentleness. "You see..." he whispered softly, his gaze never leaving Ashura's still form, "You see-- you were not unwanted, Kujaku." 


End file.
